My family as well as my many friends know how much I grieve over the past...
And how sorry I am for the crimes I committed at a time when my life was out of control and my thoughts were demonic and twisted.
God knows that if it were possible, I would do all that I could to undo those crimes. But acts like this cannot be undone. To believe so would only be wishful thinking.
Sadly, the reality is that the pain I caused other people will not go away. Their loved ones will never be replaced. And if I had the opportunity to personally apologize to every person I hurt in the past, I would gladly do so.
Thus, concerning Neysa Moskowitz and the death of her daughter Stacy, over the years I have been praying for Mrs. Moskowitz. Many of my friends have also been praying. We care about her very much. And these prayers have not been unanswered. On December 8, 2001, I was able to talk to Mrs. Moskowitz over the phone. It was wonderful! Being able to speak to her and apologize was, for me, a dream come true.
Over time, our relationship began to progress. We exchanged letters. I made a few more calls. In addition, on three occasions I was even able to send her money, which she was exceedingly grateful for. As she is now a widow with only meager finances. Her husband died a number of years ago. And her middle daughter, Ricky Beth, passed away at the age of thirty-seven from a terrible disease. Mrs. Moskowitz has known much suffering, and death has often been an unwanted visitor to her home.
However, as our relationship progressed and her long journey of healing had begun, interference came in from another person, and our developing relationship was severed. I was so disappointed. It was my hope that one day Mrs. Moskowitz could visit me.
My friends were all prepared and eager to bring her from Florida, where she now lives, to their home in New Jersey. Then they planned to drive Mrs. Moskowitz here, where she and I would have been able to meet privately in the prison's waiting room. All of Mrs. Moskowitz's expenses for the entire trip would have been taken care of. They wanted to treat her as a queen, and she would have met new friends, too.
Unfortunately, however, a media person tempted her by offering to film our first meeting for television. This is a long story, and it would take pages to explain. Suffice to say, she wanted to be on TV, and I felt that it was selfish exploitation on the part of the reporter, who was persuading her to do this. And I politely and honestly told her so.
Now Mrs. Moskowitz is angry at me again. I did not give in to her demands, nor did I succumb to this reporter's manipulations. And so, she stopped writing to me. Likewise, I found it pointless to continue writing her, as she refused to answer the last few letters I sent her.
I have kept a log of all the letters I mailed to Mrs. Moskowitz. My first letter to her was a ten-page typed letter that was dated July 25, 1998.
Over time, I would write more letters to Mrs. Moskowitz. She was answering almost every letter. Recently, though, all the letters I received from her, I turned over to my attorney, Hugo R. Harmatz, for safekeeping. I held on to these letters, which I cherish dearly, for a long time. But I felt that her letters were not safe here. So he has them.
D.B.
God knows that if it were possible, I would do all that I could to undo those crimes. But acts like this cannot be undone. To believe so would only be wishful thinking.
Sadly, the reality is that the pain I caused other people will not go away. Their loved ones will never be replaced. And if I had the opportunity to personally apologize to every person I hurt in the past, I would gladly do so.
Thus, concerning Neysa Moskowitz and the death of her daughter Stacy, over the years I have been praying for Mrs. Moskowitz. Many of my friends have also been praying. We care about her very much. And these prayers have not been unanswered. On December 8, 2001, I was able to talk to Mrs. Moskowitz over the phone. It was wonderful! Being able to speak to her and apologize was, for me, a dream come true.
Over time, our relationship began to progress. We exchanged letters. I made a few more calls. In addition, on three occasions I was even able to send her money, which she was exceedingly grateful for. As she is now a widow with only meager finances. Her husband died a number of years ago. And her middle daughter, Ricky Beth, passed away at the age of thirty-seven from a terrible disease. Mrs. Moskowitz has known much suffering, and death has often been an unwanted visitor to her home.
However, as our relationship progressed and her long journey of healing had begun, interference came in from another person, and our developing relationship was severed. I was so disappointed. It was my hope that one day Mrs. Moskowitz could visit me.
My friends were all prepared and eager to bring her from Florida, where she now lives, to their home in New Jersey. Then they planned to drive Mrs. Moskowitz here, where she and I would have been able to meet privately in the prison's waiting room. All of Mrs. Moskowitz's expenses for the entire trip would have been taken care of. They wanted to treat her as a queen, and she would have met new friends, too.
Unfortunately, however, a media person tempted her by offering to film our first meeting for television. This is a long story, and it would take pages to explain. Suffice to say, she wanted to be on TV, and I felt that it was selfish exploitation on the part of the reporter, who was persuading her to do this. And I politely and honestly told her so.
Now Mrs. Moskowitz is angry at me again. I did not give in to her demands, nor did I succumb to this reporter's manipulations. And so, she stopped writing to me. Likewise, I found it pointless to continue writing her, as she refused to answer the last few letters I sent her.
I have kept a log of all the letters I mailed to Mrs. Moskowitz. My first letter to her was a ten-page typed letter that was dated July 25, 1998.
Over time, I would write more letters to Mrs. Moskowitz. She was answering almost every letter. Recently, though, all the letters I received from her, I turned over to my attorney, Hugo R. Harmatz, for safekeeping. I held on to these letters, which I cherish dearly, for a long time. But I felt that her letters were not safe here. So he has them.
D.B.
